die
before we establish this youth's rights, think of our difficulty. And,
thirdly, he's beginning to suspect our integrity, as he is pleased to
call it. That strange gentleman, Ginty, has mentioned circumstances to
him that he says could come only from my father or myself, or you."

"Proceed," replied his sister, "proceed; I may look forward to the
fulfilment of these plans; but I will never live to see it."

"You certainly are much changed for the worse," replied her brother,
"especially since your reason has been restored to you. In the meantime,
listen. The baronet is now ill, although Gibson says there's no danger
of him; he's easier in his mind, however, in consequence of this
marriage, that he has, for life or death, set his heart on; and
altogether this is the best time to put this vagabond's pretensions
forward."

"Thank you, uncle," replied Ambrose, with a clouded brow. "In six months
hence, perhaps, I'll be no vagabond."

"Ay, in sixty years hence you will; and indeed, I fear, to tell you the
truth, that you'll never be anything else. That, however, is not the
question now. We want to know what my father may say--whether he will
agree with us, or whether he can or will give us any better advice.
There is one thing, at least, we ought to respect him for; and that is,
that he gave all his family a good education, although he had but little
of that commodity himself, poor man."

He had scarcely concluded, when old Anthony made his appearance, with
that mystical expression on his face, half sneer, half gloom, which
would lead one to conclude that his heart was divided between remorse
and vengeance.

"Well," said he, "you're at work, I see--honestly employed, of course.
Ginty, how long is Mr. Ambrose here dead now?"

"He died," replied her brother, "soon after the intention of changing
the children took place. You took the hint, father, from the worthy
baronet himself."

"Ay, I did; and I wish I had not. You died, my good young fellow, of
scarlet-fever--let me see--but divil a much matther it is when you
died; it's little good you'll come to, barrin' you change your heart.
They say, indeed, the divil's children have the divil's luck; but I say,
the divil's children have the divil's face, too; for sure he's as like
the black fiend his father as one egg is to another."

"And that will strengthen the claim," replied the young man, with a
grin. "I don't look too old, I hope?"

"There's only two years' dif